


Promise

by TeamBaconBits



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 20:35:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2202165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamBaconBits/pseuds/TeamBaconBits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being held is all he needed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promise

**Author's Note:**

> A little thing after Crystal City. Don't own any of the characters, un-bata'ed, helpful critiques welcome.

A bright blue optic watched unblinking at the boundless darkness stippled with ethereal light radiating off distant nebula, as a blanket of calm engulfs the Lost Light and its crew. 

A faint hum barely noticeable from the hab suites reverberates through the walls from the engines. Smoothly, without hitch, the Lost Light gently lulls its inhabitants into a peaceful respite. A lone calm orn among many chaotic, too tempting to allow passing unanswered. Even the most restless swayed into quiet repose. The halls cleared of wandering mechs, only a few remain vigilant with duties to attend to. 

Sitting in his dim suite, Perceptor reflects upon the past deca-orn tiredly. So soon after launch, one event after another rattles the crew, many realizing this adventure is more than they expected. Nearly just as many started second guessing their choice of joining Rodimus on this hunt for the Knights of the Circle of Light. 

The very same knights that Drift aligned with, now desperately seeking once again. What will he do once he finds them again? What answers would they have that would sprout twice as many questions? What will Drift do? What would they all do?

He can’t help but speculate.

Shifting his perch on the ledge under his port window long legs pulled up and arms neatly folded on top; Perceptor tucks his helm against the frame the armored glass, eyes focusing on a distant binary system. Watching their slow dance, he already knows the ending to their waltz, as the suns slowly draw together in an inevitable collision. 

Once upon a time he might have compared Drift and himself to these ill-fated dancers. Only a few stellar cycles ago he would have thought they would share a lasting orbit with each other. Yet, here aboard this ship they surely dance together from time to time, though it’s more of passing each other, rarely lingering. Slowly drifting apart it would seem. Especially now since their most recent fiasco down in the abandoned Crystal City, Drift avoids him all together. From the muttering around the ship, Drift has become quick to anger. Starting fights with the crew, it’s not like him. 

Perceptor vents a long gust of air, body feeling heavy. The quiet is nice but also lonely. Though he’d rather take lonely, then to have Brainstorm’s overly enthusiastic ramblings about latest breakthrough in one of his hundreds of ongoing projects. 

Clicking his dente, he can’t help but think that Brainstorm is the only one who doesn’t want to rest. Still overcharged from the public acknowledgement of him basically saving the orn. 

Closing his optics, he focuses on the soft humming of the Lost Light, letting his processor rest.

\-----

A soft swish alerts Perceptor to Brainstorm returning to their shared habsuite. A quick check to chrono meter shows that it’s only been a couple joors; oddly early for the gun enthusiast to return.

A breem later of silence, Perceptor becomes unnerved from the lack of noise. Brainstorm will always walk in needing to tell him everything he just did even if he just saw him only breems before. Opening his optic, he notices a blur of color to his side, and takes a couple of nanoklicks to focus on the striped abdomen a meter from his head. Blinking in surprise he tilts his helm up till he lays his optic on Drifts dim ones.

“Drift? What are you doing in here?” As if he didn’t hear his inquiry Drift silently stands with dim, unfocused optics silently staring, before hesitantly reaching a hand up lightly touching Perceptor’s arm, fingers lightly brushing against the dial. He just stands there quietly, waiting.

“Drift.” Softly calling to the silent mech again, Perceptor’s backstruts tense. 

Head slowly dipping, Drift presses his mouth in a tight line. His fingers slowly leave the teal arm as he letting his arm drop. Catching the falling limb as it slipped away from his arm Perceptor holds it in light grip. 

“Drift, talk to me.”

As if coming out of a locked state, Drift’s body quivers as his vents hitch as his hand clutches back at Perceptor’s own. Shuffling closer, the soft whine from stressed systems become apparent.

“May I?” A faint whisper barely makes it past Drifts lips. 

Nodding Perceptor shifts; slowly pulling the quiet mech forward. Drift sits and sluggishly maneuvers himself between red legs, twisting, sinking down so his brightly colored spaulder comes against an equally red chassis; helm nestled against Perceptor’s shoulder just under his scope’s mount. Bringing their hands over his other spaulder, he rests them upon his own shoulder, keeping the sniper’s own clasped tightly. He pulls his legs up, trying to compact himself in the small space, his form encompassed by Perceptor’s larger frame.  
Perceptor waits for the other mech to settle before dropping his cheek to Drift’s helm, lightly resting it there.  
Looking over at the curled up from within his arms, he can’t help but wonder about the obvious distress the sword mech was showing. Various struts were giving soft clicks as they try to fully release but his body still quivers against his causing said struts to relock and release again and again. Wrapping his body around Drift’s a little tighter; Percepter gently nuzzles the apex of the white helm against his nasal ridge, trying to calm the mech in his arms.  
The clicks and whining slowly fade after a few breems as Drift’s struts slowly release tension. Patently Perceptor waits, not minding the warm plating against his own. He can’t help but enjoy the other’s company while it lasts. Guilt flickers at the edge of his processor. It was unfair for him to take comfort while Drift is still upset.  
Dimming his optics, Perceptor focuses on the last few orns. What would have set Drift off to the point where he was causing uproar every other joor? The first instance was just after the away party to New Crystal City. Squinting, the scientist tried to recall the limited details he got beyond Rodimus’and Ultra Magnus’ frantic commands as they evacuated planet side to avoid the wrath of the Galactic Counsel.  
Thinking for a servo full of astro-seconds the obvious presented itself to the forefront of his processor. How could he have dismissed such an important detail?  
An abandoned Crystal City, completely and utterly deserted of any living resident. After how many stellar cycles of Drift being apart from the very society that saved him from the darkness smothering his spark; to find that not even one knight remained, only to find a slowly dying Metrotitan. Now he realizes how badly he misunderstood the situation. He should have been there for Drift, or considered trying to find some clue to what happened to them. 

“Drift. I’m sorry I didn’t-” Started Perceptor, the gravity of his inattentiveness allowed him to completely miss for what should have been the most obvious. Should have noticed something!

“Don’t. I don’t want to talk anymore about it.” whispered Drift. 

“Drift…” Perceptor starts but Drift is quick to cut him off.

“No! No more! No more questions! No more ‘I’m sorry’! Just no!” he ground out, gesticulating sharply as if his hand is cutting off anything further from Perceptor. Frame pulsating from his outburst, Drift barely holds in the anger that he hasn’t really held on to the past few orns. “Their gone, and there’s no fraggen way to locate them alright? I don’t want to think about it for 5 breems ok?” Drift pushes off Perceptor sitting up and away, just to lean his helm down and rub his face.

Perceptor lets his arms fall away. He focuses on the mount on Drifts back, only now realizing the sword missing, hip mounts absent as well. “Forgive me…for not realizing sooner.”

His servo stilling, Drift vents out heavily. “What?” vocal processor betraying how tired he is.

“Why you’re angry. I didn’t even contemplate why you were angry, didn’t consider how their absence affected you; but that wasn’t all…they saved you, accepted you, and imparted the heart of their culture unto you…they’re your family.” Slowly bringing up a servo and placing it flat over taunt back struts, slowly pushing it up and around the empty sword mount. Molding his servo around it and giving a small squeeze. 

Arching his back into the touch, Drift lets his body relax, supported by Preceptor’s hold. His intakes let out a long slow vent. 

“You are one of them…you’re hurting…been hurting, and I didn’t even try to see beyond your anger. I failed you.”

Shaking his helm Drift lets his body sag against servo holding him up and is gently lowered backwards till he seated against the warm plating, helm just lightly brushing against Perceptor’s chin guard.

“There’s nothing to forgive. I failed myself too.” Tilting his helm back Drift off lines his optics.

Perceptor slips his arms over broad shoulders and wraps them around the white chest plate, bringing his helm down to rest against the sword mech’s own. Drift curls back into Perceptor’s space, his servos sliding over the warm teal arms before him. 

“We will find them.” Perceptor says into the white helm, lips softly brushing against the white enamel. “I promise. I won’t stop looking until then.”

Drift’s arms slowly wrap around the larger bot’s own, holding them firmly to his chest plates.

“I know…Thank you.”


End file.
